Save it for Someone Who Cares
by Dendera
Summary: Season 7 spoofness. What's happened to our beloved scoobies? Will they continue on their destructive out-of-character paths? Will someone ever shut Kennedy up? All these questions answered and more... (well, maybe not.)
1. Let the spoofing begin

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Title: Save it for Someone Who Cares

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Rating: R for some naughty language and sexual innuendos. And how is that different from an episode of Buffy?

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Summary: Think Buffy and the gang have been a bit out of character lately? You ain't seen nothing yet! Season seven spoofiness.

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Author's Note: I have nothing against lesbians. I am not making an anti-homosexual statement. I just don't like Kennedy. Really. This fic was written as a reaction to the terrible characterization that has been wreaking havoc lately in the Buffyverse. I actually love these silly make-believe people-- I only mock because I care. All of the Buffy characters belong to Joss Whedon, respectively. Anyone who thinks I could make money off of this is seriously delusional. 

*~*~*

God, Buffy was tired. More tired than she had ever been. _What a day_, she thought with more than a twinge of self-pity. _It's hard being me._ And really, it was. First there had been several boring hours spent at the high school, pretending to listen to a bunch of teenagers' angsty crap and wondering whether Principal Wood was a boxer or brief kind of man. The craptastic job paid jack, and after the first four boxes, sharpening pencils had gotten a bit lackluster. Then there was her less than stellar home life. _Gee where to start there? _Take one once-upon-a-time-was-a-key whiny sister, add some generally useless friends, and a house full of hormone-driven potential slayers and it all equated to some serious style cramping.  
  
Heaving a patented 'I'm the slayer, behold the sacrifices I make' sort of sigh, Buffy unlocked her front door and mentally reviewed the afternoons schedule. _Let's see, yell at friends for being useless, yell at girls for being weak, flounce about in skimpy top, give Spike blue balls with aforementioned top, and repeat steps one through four. Yup, sounds good. _She immediately assumed her angry 'I'm the slayer and no one else is trying hard enough' expression and slammed the door shut.  
  
The BAM! resounded through the house and immediately on cue, Willow appeared, looking concerned, with her butch girlfriend Kennedy on her heels. "Buffy?" The redhead seemed to radiate concern, "Are you all right? What's the matter?"  
  
_Probably post-I-almost-destroyed-the-world sucking up_, Buffy mused. She scrutinized her friend for a moment, trying to figure out whether Kennedy was ogling her chest or not. "Nothing." The slayer snapped. "It's just that the First is going to show up anytime now, bitch slap everybody, and there's nothing anyone will be able to do about it because, you know, you all suck."  
  
Willow's pasty face crinkled with hurt. "Buffy…"  
  
"You're out of line!" the brunette potential barked, flexing her chest.   
  
Buffy glared at her. Her shoes were ugly and far too masculine. "I'm sorry, who are you skanky ho biscuit?" She asked mockingly, blinking her blue-gray-storm-on-the-ocean eyes for a patronizing effect. "You're not a slayer yet, so therefore you don't count."  
  
Kennedy fumed and was ready to pound Buffy's over-aerobicized arse, but Willow laid a calming hand on her shoulder. "No, don't. This is between Buffy and I. She's right, we're not trying hard enough."  
  
"You always take her side!" Kennedy pouted and stormed off, leaving the wicca and slayer at a face off. "I'm not holding hands with you under the table tonight!" Willow frowned; that was the third time this week she had lost her handholding privileges.  
  
Buffy stretched luxuriously, making that cute little squeaky sound one does when they get in a really good stretch. "Well, I'm hungry. Where's Spike?"  
  
The witch did not bother to comment on the obvious Freudian slip. Buffy could be such a slut sometimes. "I made tuna. Spike's in the basement brooding over his humanity."  
  
"Mmm, tuna." Buffy licked her lips and imagined spreading it on a Spike sandwich. But then she stopped and pretended to be appalled with her naughtiness, because, you know, she's a good girl now. She brushed past Willow and headed towards the kitchen to scarf down a sandwich.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Meanwhile, Spike had locked himself down in the Summer's basement for some quality brooding time. The bleached vampire had his own special brand he was working on. He would first angst over his newly restored soul and whether or not he deserved to be counted as a good guy and then fantasize about Buffy, frolicking in her skimpy tops. Mmm…frolicking.   
  
Abruptly, Buffy threw open the basement's door and stomped down the stairs. Startled, he nearly fell off his cot. Spike managed to recompose himself and adopt the look of a kicked puppy by the time she reached him.  
  
"Buffy," his greeting was strained, but full of emotion.   
  
She took one look at his tight pants and gave a smirk. "I see you're at the 'imagine Buffy naked' stage of your brooding."  
  
"Am not," he defended, the catch in his accent giving him away. "What are you doing down here?"  
  
She gave him a look. "It's my basement. Duh."  
  
The vampire had begun to establish his sighing technique. It complimented his brooding nicely. "You know the First may be using me as its bloody puppet. I don't fancy putting you or any of the girls in danger." He stood suddenly and struck a dramatic pose. "Maybe I shouldn't be here at all. Probably would be better for you lot if I just cleared out of town."  
  
Buffy yawned a little. The tuna sandwich was making her sleepy. "Nah, I'm not ready for you to leave yet."  
  
Spike turned, his dark eyes as hard as diamonds as he searched her face expectantly. "Why's that, love?"  
  
"Because most of the people in this house suck and besides I need more human shields."  
  
He looked to her adoringly. "Right, but I'm not human."  
  
She let her gaze travel down his finely muscled chest. "Well, you have a nice ass."  
  
Spike drew closer, wanting to ravish her right then and there, in a completely consensual way of course. "I suppose I do."  
  
Buffy slunk up to him, making the most of her see-through lace shirt. "And I'm the slayer, so you have to do what I say. Even though I lead you on and treat you like crap."  
  
He brushed a trembling hand against her cheek. "It could be worse, y'know. I could be Xander."  
  
Buffy snorted through her laughter. "That's so true!" They laughed a good while at this before Spike decided to get all mushy again.  
  
"Buffy," he murmured lovingly.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You've got tuna on your chin…just there."   
  
She was about to suggest that he lick it off for her when Dawn bounded clumsily down the stairs. "Buffy!" She called loudly, even though the two were in plain sight. Dawn was special like that. Buffy attributed it to the fact that the girl had been made by a bunch of guys who had never been laid.  
  
"What is it Dawn?" Buffy asked gruffly in a no nonsense manner. The hyper teenager embarked on a long, rambling explanation regarding something Buffy didn't care about. She knew Dawn was just trying to fit in by pretending to have a talent that mattered.   
  
"…and I tried to translate the Macedonian text by cross-referencing it with macaroni on the internet. Isn't it funny that they almost sound the same…macedoni macaroni?" The girl finished with that grating high-pitched laugh that made Buffy want to knock her unconscious.  
  
Buffy pushed Spike off of her. "That's great. Good job and stuff," she replied vaguely. "Go get me a diet Coke."  
  
Dawn hastily retreated to fetch her drink. Sometimes Buffy just didn't appreciate her. No one could understand what it was like to be a teenage key! One day she would be the best researcher in the world…then maybe, she would, like, even have her own website! It would have passwords and stuff, and _certain _slayers wouldn't be allowed.  
  
Buffy watched her sister race up the stairs. _She really needs to give up the internet website dream,_ she thought with a shake of her head. "All right, I'm done with you for now," she told Spike offhandedly and left him alone, again, with blue balls in the basement.  
  
At the top of the stairs, she nearly ran into Xander who was busy cracking way unfunny jokes to a few unimpressed potential slayers. The girls were snickering derisively at the general lameness of him. Buffy almost felt sorry from him. Almost.   
  
"Hey Buff," he shuffled around in that weird rambling way of his. "Just making time with the SIT's. Always looking for a few good women, you know protect and serve and all that."  
  
Buffy didn't know. Her blank look seemed to relay that to him. "Xand, they're like seventeen. That's kind of skanky."  
  
He shrugged, looking unconcerned. "Willow's doing it."  
  
Buffy shook her head. "Yeah, well Willow's been on the rebound since whatsherface died."  
  
"Tara," he corrected. "You know, big-boobed, tree-hugging, pot-smoking hippie?"  
  
"Oh yeah." She eyed his rumpled flannel shirt and wrinkled cords; they just screamed loser. _He has a bad track record with women; it's not his fault he attracts demons, freaks, and Cordelia. _She thought fondly. _Well, maybe it is. I'd help him out with his image but…I just don't care, really._ Poor Xander. _Oh well._  
  
Just then, Buffy reminded herself of her 'to do' list and realized she had forgotten one important task. As a mentor and role model she must always be thinking of others. "Xander, grab the pre-teens. I feel an inspirational speech coming on."  
  
Xander looked almost too pleased to comply. "Okay, you got it, Buff!"  
  
"Oh and Xander?" She called after him, "I didn't mean 'grab' in the literal sense."  
  
He chose not to hear her.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Once the potentials had been assembled in the living room, Buffy launched into her rehearsed "why half of you will die during our final battle with the First" speech. It was a good long one, and she was rather proud of it. Tonight she had made six of the SIT's cry, which was three more than last time! Dawn sat obediently quiet through the entire lecture, loyally taking notes. _Suck-up. _  
  
When Buffy had finished hammering home the underlying theme of the message, 'why I am so much better than all of you,' she opened the floor up for questions and comments (mostly because she and Xander had a bet going which one of the girls would crack first). Of course the first violent objection came the sluttiest of the SIT's, Kennedy herself. Buffy rolled her eyes and waited for her rabid complaints to cease.  
  
"…And I think I could lead these girls much better than you can because everything's about you and it should be about me, I mean, us! Even though I'm not a slayer, I could still handle things better than you could! And you're just jealous that Willow and I have found happiness in our girl power lesbian ways!"  
  
Xander whooped and applauded loudly at that.   
  
"Again with the not counting," Buffy reminded Kennedy with annoyance. "How many times do I have to remind you?"  
  
"Buffy…" Willow dared to speak up. "You can't speak to people like that. It's not good for our morale."  
  
"Oh really? And what is?" Buffy scoffed back. "Going three shades of mental and flambéing someone just because they killed your girlfriend?"  
  
Willow's ears went almost as red as her hair. "Look who's talking…with the 'Angel, Angel, everything's about Angel' crap for four years!"  
  
"Well, that was important!"  
  
"And Tara wasn't?"  
  
"Wils, Buff, let's just all calm down for a moment and-" Xander interjected.  
  
"SHUT-UP!" Both girls hissed in deadly tones.   
  
Xander knew what he had to do. The old crayon routine; worked every time. He put a hand on Willow's shoulder and tried his best to look as soulful as possible. "Willow, I love you. Yellow crayons, you know."  
  
His childhood friend's eyes promptly went a funky inky black color. "You can't use that line every time I get upset!" She shrieked, tossing a bolt of lightning in his direction.   
  
Xander used a nearby potential to absorb the shock, but the heat from the electricity was making Buffy's perfectly coifed mane frizzy with static.  
  
"Oh no you didn't," she growled and grabbed a fistful of Willow's stringy red hair.  
  
"Girl fight, girl fight!" Andrew and Xander sang in unison.  
  
Willow singed a hole through Buffy's barely there blouse. "I'd kill you again if I thought you'd actually _stay _dead this time!"  
  
At that very moment, the front door swung open to reveal Giles and the latest (what is it like 30th now?) potential slayer. "Yes, I've returned from another trip abroad with-Good Lord!" He took one look at Buffy and Willow's vicious catfight and rushed towards them. "What's going on here?"  
  
"Buffy was being sort of mean and Kennedy said that she would be a better leader and then Willow said-" Andrew offered helpfully.  
  
Giles silenced with him a dirty look. "Could I please get an explanation from someone who matters?"   
  
"Rupie?" The newest potential, a surprisingly doting and…mature brunette, questioned. She draped herself against him and peered at the two grappling girls. "What's happening?"  
  
"Rupie?" Xander sniggered.  
  
"Rupie?" Dawn repeated, bewildered.  
  
"Rupie?" Willow and Buffy paused in mid-struggle.  
  
Giles looked fittingly uncomfortable with the amused stares and giggles. "Yes, well…it's only a nickname, of course. Sarah and I got on rather well on the trip back."  
  
"Who got on who, mate?" Spike drawled from his place in the hallway.  
  
The Watcher had the good sense to look sheepish when his 'charge' gave them a suggestive wink. "You may keep your presumptions to yourself," he stammered curtly. Nevertheless, this is another of your colleagues, from England if you can imagine."  
  
Buffy released Willow from her headlock and stood to brush herself off. "She looks, I dunno, kind of old to be a potential. How old is she?"  
  
"Twenty-three," Giles replied as nonchalantly as he could manage.   
  
"Nicely done," Xander nodded his approval, only to earn a scathing glare.  
  
The other SIT's gaped openly at the oldest and newest addition to their ranks. "I'll admit that it is a bit out of the ordinary to come across such an…advanced potential. But there you have it."  
  
"I guess," Buffy acknowledged suspiciously. Sometimes she wondered about Giles. To go from his sexy delinquent Ripper persona to boring book guy…he must still have some shady habits hidden from her. Making all of those trips to collect girls? Yeah, right. Had to be a pimp or something.  
  
"Yes, well." The Englishman cleared his throat. "I'll just help Sarah find a suitable place for her luggage…" Everyone else looked on awkwardly as the older SIT practically dragged Giles upstairs.  
  
Buffy shuddered. "I think I speak for everyone here when I say, Ew." All in attendance had to agree, except Andrew, who kept strangely quiet. She turned towards Willow, whose freaky black eyes were starting to fade. "Will," Buffy began soberly, "I'm sorry I hate your loudmouth girlfriend, and that you're weak and wussy about your magick."  
  
Willow smiled tenderly. "Buffy you know I can never stay mad at you. Even when you're being all slutty and slave-driving and stuff."  
  
"Friends?" Buffy smiled, secretly wondering what time Joe Millionaire was on that night. She hoped she and Willow would wrap this up soon.  
  
The wicca hugged her tightly, pressing her friend close enough to mask her effort to cop a feel. It was an old trick of Xander's. Nice to know he was good for something.  
  
Xander, unable to resist being part of the center of attention, pulled both girls into a hug, successfully feeling them up simultaneously. _Heh, I still got it. _"We're in it together for the long haul, Buffy. Whether you like it or not." The SIT's all awww'ed in stereo. It was a sickeningly sweet moment.  
  
Buffy's looked at her two friends meaningfully. "I love you guys. Will, you'll always be my favorite lesbian. And Xand, I've never had a better doormat."  
  
*~*~*  
  
Will Buffy start to care about anyone but herself? Will Spike quit playing the part of the injured fawn? Will Kennedy ever shut-up? Follow the out-of-character train wreck that is season 7!

To be continued...


	2. Dates all around

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Author's Note: As you'll find out, I'm very loosely following the season 7 storyline here. I still can't believe how out of character everyone is! Rude, unhelpful Giles? Ice princess Buffy? Mack daddy Willow? Oh Joss, what have you done?

*~*~*

Giles emerged from behind closed doors several hours later, shirt untucked and feathery hair all askew. He clomped down the stairs, immediately trying to assume his favorite no-nonsense 'why aren't you all taking this as seriously as I am?' expression. 

Buffy tore her gaze away from Spike's bare chest to greet him. "Hey Giles, did you get the new girl settled in?" 

The Watcher gaped in disgust at the scene before him. Buffy apparently had been using Spike as a human, er vampire punching bag. While the fact that the cheeky vamp was being pummeled senseless didn't bother him, the look of mutual enjoyment on both the Spike and the slayer's face was considerably annoying. 

Giles scowled. "Yes," he replied more monotone than necessary, "she's being prepped by Kennedy as we speak."

Buffy's rolled her eyes derisively. "I'll bet she's being 'prepped.' I can't believe you left her alone with that ho-bag."

The Englishman didn't know the exact definition of the term, but he guessed it was contemptuous by nature. He sighed, prepared to deliver a patented Giles 'we must all work together or we will surely fail' speech. However, Buffy beat him to the punch and then beat Spike for emphasis.

"That abusive loud-mouth is giving everyone low morale, you know? All she does is whine about how the girls aren't good enough. She even calls them words like 'maggot' and other things I can't pronounce." The slayer caught Spike in the stomach with a mean right hook. He winced and doubled over, signaling in a serious of low grunts that he needed a break. Buffy maintained her typically oblivious state of mind. "Isn't that mean of her?"

"Indeed," Giles sighed, wondering for the millionth time what it would have been like to have a sweet, obedient slayer assigned to him. Like that Sarah girl; yes, she was most agreeable...

Buffy stretched and tossed her boxing gloves aside, accidentally nailing Dawn in the face. "Whoops, careful there, Dawnie. Anyway, I gotta get going." She beamed with perky pride. "I've got a date."

"A date?" Giles blanched with disbelief.

"A date?" Spike wheezed from the floor.

"Yeah," Buffy confirmed, getting a little pouty over the fact that no one was there to tell her how great she was for getting the hook-up even with an apocalypse on. "What's the big? It's just that Principal guy I work for."

Giles sputtered his disapproval. "A date? At a time like this?" He folded his arms and switched to full stern mode. "Buffy, as the slayer, you have a sacred obligation to these girls to prepare them for what is to come. We have a bloody apocalypse on our hands and you feel that your free time is better spent behaving like a trollop?"

Buffy glared at him. "I don't even know what a trollop is, but the way you said it made it sound yucky. Besides Principal Wood is kind of creepy..." she paused to consider this for a moment, "either that, or really sexy. And it's my job to figure out which one."

Spike let loose a hacking cough/laugh at this. "His name is Wood?"

"That's his last name. His first name is Robin," Buffy corrected sharply.

"Oh yeah, that's a right manly name, Robin. Robin Wood. Sounds like a nancy--"

"Shut it." The slayer warned, banishing Spike to the basement with the point of a finger.

Giles made several snorting sounds to express his exasperation. "Surely there are more important matters that demand your utmost in focus...like me." Her watcher sniffled uncharacteristically sentimental. "You hardly look happy to see me. I've devoted the entirety of my life to you and what gratitude do I get? I could have bloody well been the First and you treated it as if-- Will you stop ogling Spike and look at me when I'm speaking to you?!"

Buffy blinked a few times to shake off the mental image of the Spike/tuna scenario before preparing to give her watcher a severe tongue-lashing. (Ew, not that kind of tongue-lashing! Get your mind out of the gutters, readers!) 

"Well, maybe if you showed up now and again when it _wasn't _the end of the world!" She stomped her foot to show just how mature and responsible she was. "And how dare you judge me!"

Presently, Andrew slunk by, video camera in hand, quietly narrating to himself. "Oh Xander, you carpenter extraordinaire, could you ever learn to care for an evil genius turned redemptive Luke Skywalker type?" The quirky blonde nerd glanced up at there bewildered faces, muttered something about a documentary and scuttled out of the room.

"Will you look at him? He's such a creepy little weirdo with that video camera and his action figures." Buffy complained loudly, apparently having forgotten her previous 'judging' comment. "And have you noticed that smell of his?"

"We're getting remarkably off subject," Giles reminded her crossly.

Overhearing the argument, Willow rounded the corner, just in time to provide helpful validation. "Buffy really needs to know these things, Giles. If Principal Wood's not a Hellmouth sympathizer, maybe he could, you know, be on our side. Besides...there's nothing wrong with um, exploring your emotional...er options at a time like this."

The Englishman gave them all a filthy look and retreated to the kitchen to make up another batch of flash cards. Some of the SIT's were a little slower than the others, but at least they appreciated him...

Buffy turned to Willow, eying the wicca curiously. "Is that what you call it? Are you 'exploring your emotional options' with Kennedy?"

Willow chuckled nervously and gestured a lot for no reason in particular. "No, of course not. I mean, um, there'd be nothing wrong if I, or anyone else, really...um did. You know it's all about living for the moment 'cause you never know when hyena possessed kids or wormy man-eating mayors or rogue slayers or shape-shifting demons from other dimensions are gonna mess things up for you."

Buffy offered a patronizing smile. "Thanks for the recap there, Will."

A pathetic series of cries and triumphant woops signaled the arrival of Xander, who looked more than pleased with himself. "Guess who has a date?" He puffed out his flannel clad chest with pride. 

"Anya? Geez, she sure got over you fast!" 

Xander looked positively deflated. "No Buff, me. That's right Hellmouth, you hear that? Xander Lavelle Harris is back in the game of love!"

The chosen one and her witch sidekick exchanged knowing glances. "Aw sweetie," Willow wrapped a comforting arm around her childhood friend's shoulders. "You know she's probably just a big demon, don't you?"

"Yeah, Xand. Maybe you shouldn't go, because I don't have time to save you tonight." Buffy advised shrewdly.

"She's got a date tonight," Willow explained as the slayer preened shamelessly.

"That is _so _not fair! Tonight was my night to get lucky!" He griped in an overly whiny tone. "You can't get lucky too!"

Buffy and Willow nearly collapsed into collective giggles. "Oh, you wouldn't have gotten lucky even if you tried. So you're really not missing out on anything."

"Yeah, she'd probably tie you up and eat you or something," Willow joined in the half-hearted attempt to make him feel better.

Xander sighed forlornly. "Well, that's better than nothing. Guess it's another night with the scrappy girl gang and the Moulin Rouge dvd."

"That's the spirit," Buffy concluded with disinterest. "Well, better go pick out something slutty, yet functional, to wear!"

Willow patted his shoulder a few times to fulfill her best friend duties. "And maybe if you're lucky, I'll let you watch Kennedy and me make out."

*~*~*

"Didn't I tell you not to go?" Buffy growled between roundhouses, as she sent the demon Lyssa flying to another corner of the room. "Didn't I say 'she's probably all demony and you're not gonna get any tonight?' Well, didn't I Xander?!"

Xander flinched at the steely tone of her voice. "She didn't seem evil. Maybe a little forward, but that's not a bad thing. How was I supposed to know?" When his Hellmouth date strung him up with rope in her garage, he had really gotten his hopes up. It would have been kind of kinky if she hadn't been trying to cut him to death.

The slayer beheaded Lyssa in a massive display of PMS driven girl power. Then she threw the axe at Xander's head. He dodged it just in time. "What do you mean 'how was I supposed to know?' Xander, look at your track record, you demon gigolo! And besides, I'm always right. You should know that by know." She sighed and helped him up, then added grouchily, "I'm starving, so we're going to stop by McDonalds and you're going to buy me dinner."

"I'm sorry I ruined your date, Buff," he made an attempt at being contrite. It just didn't work for him.

She retrieved her axe and wiped the blood off on his pants. "No you're not."

He heaved a sigh of relief. "You're right. Man, I'm glad I don't have to fake that the whole ride home."

"Yeah, well, you're riding in the back with Spike."

(To be continued... Urgh Agh)


	3. Of Love and Lechery

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Author's Note-- I know Giles getting some action isn't part of the _real _season seven storyline, but it should be! As the brilliant Cyberwulf stated, "Stupid Joss, sets Giles up as a man who can manage it twice while drugged and under a spell, then never, EVER gives the guy a sex scene..." Preach on, my friend.

*~*~*

"Andrew!" Anya barked with the full authority of a demon boot camp sergeant. "What are you doing in there? My bladder needs attention!" She pounded on the bathroom door with both fists. "Godsdamnit, hurry it up already!"

"Just a minute," a muffled voice replied, followed by hasty shuffling and low whispers. The lanky blonde opened the door and was nearly stampeded by a flock of slayer wannabes, all determined to get the first shower. Anya narrowed her eyes and beat them back, scrutinizing Andrew's sheepish expression.

"It's about time. What were you doing in there, giving your penis a pep-talk?" The demon inquired sardonically, as she grabbed an SIT by the hair and chucked her out into the hallway. She paused to give his crotch a good once-over. "Because it obviously isn't working."

Andrew frowned, and then cradled his video camera lovingly. "No, I was supplying the opening dialogue to my documentary, for your information," he lisped proudly. "It's about Buffy and her heroic slayer history. I think I'll call it 'Buffy and Her Heroic Slayer History.'"

Anya was never one to support a creative endeavor when money was clearly not involved. She rolled her eyes and shoved him out the door. "Why can't you just be normal and masturbate like the rest of us?" _[Author's note: the original line was just too brilliant-- I didn't have the heart to tweak it too much.]_

The geekling looked mildly offended. What did they think he spent so much time doing in the bathroom anyway? "I was hoping that maybe as an official insider to the Buffy circle, you could give me an exclusive interview about Xander's sex drive...er, the truth behind the real Buffy." 

Anya deliberated for a moment. She _was _an important insider, even though she severely disliked the slayer and most of her companions. "Yes, on both counts," she agreed pompously. "I was planning to write a tell-all book on Buffy the human twig, so perhaps I'll give you a preview for my own publicity."

*~*~*

"...and gentle viewers, allow me to introduce to you the heroine of this documentary. Beautiful, yet troubled. Fierce, yet fragile. Buffy, slayer of the Vampyres, is a woman of contradictions. She has battled the legions of darkness since an early calling--"

"My fist is going to have an early calling to your face if you don't turn that thing off." Buffy glowered from her place at the fridge. She poked around at the scattered contents. "And stop following me around. That's what I have Spike for."

"That's right, peaches," the vampire's disembodied voice sounded from nowhere in particular.

Andrew ducked his head in shame and lowered his camera. "I just wanted to capture your grace and ease as the slayer and the kindness you're always showing towards--"

"Sonofa... all right, which one of you little creeps ate my low-fat peach yogurt?" Buffy growled menacingly, frightening a few nearby SIT's. 

"I think it's kind of cool. It's important to keep track of all of this for future generations." Dawn piped up, primping innocently. Surely as the slayer's sister, she'd be guaranteed an important interview. Besides, how many people could say _they _used to be a key? "Right, Andrew?"

"Exactly," Andrew confirmed weakly, watching intently as Xander inhaled a bowl of cheerios. The Zeppo lifted the bowl to his lips and slurped the remaining puddle of milk. A small trail of it dribbled down his chin and onto the counter. Andrew stared, fascinated. By the time he was torn from his latest "Xander: the sturdy carpenter" daydream, Buffy was well into her third inspirational speech of the morning.

"...And that's why you should always do everything I say. Because God knows _I've _never made a mistake, and the First is well aware of the fact that most of you are idiots anyway. So unless you want to become nameless potential fodder, you'd better listen up." Buffy shot a pointed look at a few anonymous SIT's in the back row. They shifted uncomfortably under her critical gaze. Clearly as they lacked identities, they would be the first ones to bite it. 

Andrew sighed, glumly. Buffy could be so longwinded sometimes. He retreated back upstairs with his camera in tow, nearly tripping over Kennedy and Willow's make-out session on the way. A half a dozen more pre-teen slayer wannabes littered the hall, squealing over issues of tampons, nail polish, and their favorite WB boys. _Definitely Tom Welling_, Andrew thought dreamily, before snapping back to reality. Maybe he should find Buffy's watcher, Mr. Giles, and squeeze in another interview before Buffy finished...

Noting the "Do Not Disturb" sign glaring from the spare bedroom door Giles currently occupied, Andrew concluded that the Englishman must have recently returned from retrieving more potentials. And by the enthusiastic noises coming from within, there must be some serious training exercises in session. 

The penitent young man smiled at the dedication of it all, quietly narrating to himself. "There is no rest, nor peace, and nor exceptions in the intrepid world of vampyre slaying. One must always remain stalwart and focused in order to achieve--"

"Shut that _bloody _thing off!" The impatient growl sent Andrew scurrying back to the safety of Buffy's bathroom. 

*~*~*

Kennedy clapped her hands loudly, getting the grudging attention of the entire living room. "All right, you filthy mongrels! Out in the backyard pronto, so I can whip your worthless hides into shape! Now MOVE IT!" The potentials all exchanged dirty looks, mouthing wordless curses under their prepubescent breaths as they shuffled out to do Kennedy's bidding.

Lil' Miss Drill Sergeant 'Likes it Rough' issued a saccharine sweet smile, and batted her dark lashes seductively at her current object of lust. "Bye muffin-head, I'm off to train the girls now."

Willow felt a flush spread through her, her cheeks going red. She returned the smile, self-consciously, before diving into her usual bashful babbling. "Um...okay, bye. I mean, not bye really, cause you'll just be in the backyard and stuff. But, uh, have fun."

Kennedy winked, looking very naughty indeed. "Don't worry, I'll save some for you." And flouncing off, she went to torment her peers.

Giles swept through the front door, carrying an armful of shopping bags, a lovely Cantonese girl at his side. "Yes, please come in." He instructed her slowly, as if speaking to a three-year-old. "You may put your things down here." 

"God, _another _one?" Buffy groaned as she appeared in the hallway, Dawn annoyingly at her heels. "Where do you keep finding all these girls, Giles?"

He shot her a stern look. "Buffy, _surely _you realize that there are many potential slayers out there who require our protection...."

She eyed the multiple _Gap _and _Abercrombie _bags with skepticism. He had never taken _her _shopping, and she was his slayer-- the original even! "Yeah, but do they all require trips to the mall?" Buffy interjected, a bit too disdainfully for Giles' taste. "Where are you getting all of this money? Because, if you haven't noticed, you keep shoving teenage girls at me and they all eat like pigs. Or worse--teenage pigs!"

He frowned at her question, and opened his mouth to haughtily protest her disrespect when the young, doe-eyed SIT at his side spoke up first.

"What is this place? And why is that girl so skinny? She looks like she's about to die! You are going to feed me here, aren't you Sir? Please don't starve me!" Giles patted her on the head, smiling sympathetically.

"Yes, you're quite right," he replied kindly, completely oblivious to her panic. "This is Buffy, the one I told you about. She is the slayer and you're to stay with her. You needn't worry, you'll be quite safe here."

Buffy regarded him with an expression that clearly read, 'liar.' "Buffy, this is...ah, Cho...something or other. Yes, for now we'll just call her Cho." He continued, drawing himself up proudly. "She's been sent to us from Russia."

"Um...Giles? She doesn't look like she's, you know, _from _Russia..." Willow put in as gently as she could.

He shooed Cho upstairs, gesturing emphatically for her to find a place to stow her bags. "I appreciate your input Willow," Giles declared haughtily, sounding as if he meant just the opposite. "But don't forget that I have mastered over a dozen languages and am quite well-informed regarding where my charges are from and their native dialects." 

"_Your _charges?" Buffy scoffed at his description.

Her watcher artfully chose to ignore her remark. "So tell me, what have I missed while I was away? Any gaping plot holes?"

"Several," she yawned, trying to estimate just how many. "Let's see, there was all that wonkiness with the seal, about how teasing Andrew and making him cry closed it..."

"Ah, very intriguing."

"Willow's also apparently over Tara..."

"Is that so, Willow?"

The witch glanced up from her magazine, "Yup, kinda."

Buffy resumed her list, counting on her fingers. "The First really hasn't appeared to you or Xander for some weird reason..." Her face lit up as she seemed to recall something important. "Oh! That's right, Spike's doohickey was malfunctioning, so The Initiative that previously hated us both got rid of it, totally free of charge!"

Giles did a fair impression of a cartoon character's bulgy-eyed disbelief. "You mean to tell me that you had Spike's chip removed? Buffy, that was a completely irrational decision! Did you even pause to think of the consequences?"

Buffy gritted her teeth and eyed her watcher with resentment. Did Giles take her to be some brainless little twit? Of course she carefully had weighed all of her options before making that _difficult _decision. If the chip remained lodged in Spike's brain, causing him such extreme amounts of pain, then he'd never be able to really satisfy her again. Maybe she didn't want him that way now...but it was always reassuring to know that comfort sex was just a basement away.

The slayer stiffly crossed her arms. "We had to make a choice. That chip was killing him, Giles. Keeping it in him..." She spoke the next words very slowly, self-righteously, as if pronouncing a multi-syllable ingredient from bag of potato chips. "It would have been wr-ong."

He removed his glasses, a habitual sign of irritation, and cleaned them in a manner that bordered on obsessive compulsive. "Well, perhaps you might have bothered to recall my _dead _girlfriend." Giles reminded her coldly. "The last time you acted rashly, Angelus nearly killed us all!"

Willow and Dawn eyed each other nervously before hastily darting from the room, leaving the watcher and slayer at a standoff. 

"Oh, that is _so _like you to bring that up!" Buffy rolled her eyes, "That was five seasons ago! Besides, I already said I was sorry. Geez..." She eyed his glasses resentfully, suppressing the urge to give them a good stomping.

Little did she know, the Englishman's bitter diatribe was long overdue and quickly picking up steam. "Oh yes, allow me to apologize for still loving Jenny," he spat petulantly. "Moreover, for having any emotion at all. I know it must come as a shock to you that 'the old guy' still has feelings."

"Please, I know you're old, but I never said you didn't have--" She interrupted herself, her eyes narrowing with hurt. "You know what? You always turn around and try to blame things on me! At least I'm not the one who's always leaving. You think you'd have bruises from all of the times the door hit you in the ass on the way out!"

Giles folded his arms, looking extremely huffy. "You're being exceedingly childish right now, Buffy."

She lifted her chin, eyes glaring a challenge. "Oh yeah? Well, that new girl of yours? Total Mary Sue. _So there_."

"Marry whom?" He inquired, baffled by her declaration.

"Mary Sue," Buffy repeated smugly. "Isn't whatsherface a little too good to be true?"

"Sarah." Giles interjected tersely, "And I don't see how this relates to--"

She recited her observations with relish. "You know, sweet, gifted, a great rack, and good in bed? Do the math Giles. It's just the author trying to score vicarious smoochies with you."

He reddened noticeably. "I haven't the slightest clue what you mean."

Buffy pointed triumphantly towards the alias _Sarie Sprite_. "Sarie... Sarah. Get it? Duh. Totally doesn't count as a love interest. And you call _me _childish."

[Author frowns. _Shut it, Buffy_.]

"Hey, I'm just making my point."

[_Yeah, whatever. I'm the one making fun here-- not you_.]

Only Giles could be that crestfallen and still maintain his disapproving expression. "Yes, well, at least I'm not nurturing a careless vampire obsession. Really Buffy, can't you date a human being with an actual pulse?" 

"Hey! I dated Riley!"

He gave her a dubious look. 

She sighed in defeat. "All right _fine_, he doesn't exactly count. But still! That doesn't make you right about Spike!"

"No, the fact that I'm right makes me right. Buffy, I really do think that you should reevaluate your responsibilities as a slayer more carefully. You're an adult now--"

"La la la la la!" She covered her ears with her hands and sang loudly off-key, much like her performance in _Once More with Feeling. _"I can't heeeaaaaarrrr you!"

Giles stalked from the room, frustrated and wounded by their bickering. He loved Buffy, cared about her very much, but sometimes she could be such a little fool. Surely there had to be some way to regain her confidence, to reinstate the powerful trust that had defined their relationship for so many years. She just needed to be shown the truth by someone who had her welfare and best interests at heart.

I know! The idea struck him suddenly, like a gift from the gods. _I'll allow an acquaintance I've barely known for two seconds to coerce me into helping him kill Spike! Once Buffy recognizes that what we've done is for her own good, surely she'll welcome me back as her authority/father figure! _It was bloody brilliant. Now if only he could find something shady and mysterious to wear for such an act of deception...

*~*~*

Wheee! Are we having fun yet? Tune in next time for a brutal bashing of "Lies My Parents Told Me" and "Dirty Girls."


	4. Lies I told myself

Author's note: Sorry for taking so long on this one, kids. Thanks for your patience, and a huge kudos to my best friend Kelly (Dr. Tamwe here at FF.net) for playing muse on this chapter!

*~*~*

****

Flashback…

London, 1986

__

"This is it, Dru," Spike whispered sensually into his long-time paramour's ear. He pressed her close, sensing her eagerness through the filmy layers of her gown. "Tonight's the night everything changes for us."

Drusilla gave a low growl and nipped playfully at his earlobe. "Ooooh, my dear boy's brought me a new playmate! Ms. Edith has been flippant this afternoon, and shall have no games."

The bleached one gave her a seductive smile. "Let's not forget to share, pet. You can't have everything to yourself." He kissed her thoroughly, ignoring the scatter of corpses piled at their feet. Silly bodyguards, always getting in the way.

"Ready, baby?" He questioned in his best low, sexy tone. Together the two vampires burst through the dressing room door of their intended victim, a lethal force to be reckoned with, and ready to raise some…

"Oi!" A drunken voice slurred in surprise, "What the 'ell?!" Billy Idol wobbled to his feet, fingers hooked possessively around a wine bottle. He squinted at what appeared to be his own reflection, and the pouty brunette that accompanied it. 

"Who the 'ell are you?"

"Hello Billy," Spike drawled silkily, a wicked grin spreading menacingly over his sharp features. "I'm Spike, and this is Drusilla. And we're here to make your every fantasy come to life. Or unlife, actually…"

The rock star gaped openly at Drusilla's low-cut bodice, disregarding Spike completely. "You here for the orgy, baby?"

Spike coughed, fighting back his impatience. "Something like that, mate. You see, we've taken a fancy to you and Dru an-" 

"Dru, eh?" Billy sidled up to the raven-haired vampiress, tracing the outline of her lower lip as she squirmed with pleasure. "What about you, love? Fancy a shag?"

Drusilla grazed his finger with her tongue in a quick serpentine movement, dark eyes glittering with mischief. "Fancy a heart for my pocket and a new bonnet," she cocked her head to the side, birdlike. "Did you hear, my Spike? This naughty boy shall be our pet."

Spike felt his budding irritation shift to jilted rage. "Yes, princess, I've heard," he gave the pop idol a dark look, one that he hoped threatened violence. "And naughty pets should know their place." Billy seemed to interpret the intimidation correctly, and despite his stupor, reluctantly staggered back a few paces.

Content with his results, Spike continued. "As I was saying, we'd like to invite you into our little family, Billy. Together the three of us will infect this world like a dark plague; we'll ravage cities and watch them bleed. We'll drink until we're full and-" He halted mid-sentence. Billy Idol was swiftly pinching Drusilla in places that made Spike want to hang him by his own entrails.

"You're a strange bird, but you've got a perky little ass." Drusilla barked impishly at his, which the celebrity took as a sign of encouragement. "Why don't you ditch the prig, an' you an' me will have some real fun…"

"Now just one bloody minute!" Spike growled murderously, steering Drusilla away from the lewd advances of his rival, and shoving her hastily out the door. "Wait right there," he instructed curtly, before slamming it shut. Morphing into game face, he then rounded on Billy.

"Bugger!" The other stumbled backwards, terrified.

"Listen up, mate," he advised with a hiss, "This isn't about Dru, it's about you and me!" He felt his vampiric visage slipping, returning to normal, as his true feelings revealed themselves. "Ever since I first heard you sing that…ruddy song, I felt…felt like I never have before," he concluded sentimentally, sniffing a bit. "It's like you were singing just to me."

And then he did begin to sing, softly at first, but rising with emotion. "Tell me your troubles and doubts. Giving me everything inside and out, out. Love's strange, so real in the dark. Think of the tender things that we were working on. Slow change may pull us apart. I'll get us back together at heart, baby…" He gazed affectionately into his hero's intoxicated eyes. "Don't You Forget About Me. Don't Don't Don't Don't…Don't You Forget About Me."

Billy fidgeted awkwardly, doing little to conceal his growing alarm. "Yeah, that's a bloody good rendition," his grip seemed to tighten on the bottle. "Remind my assistant to give you some free passes…"

"Oh, Billy," Spike started forward, pleadingly. "You've got to understand-I never meant for this to happen…but, but we can be together forever. You, me, and Dru will make this world our playground! Nothing can stop us from having it all!"

"Help," the star squeaked ineffectively. "Need some help in here!"

The vampire drew closer, a desperate expression written all over his face. "Don't you understand? I…I love you."

At those frank, well-meant words, Billy Idol's lips seemed to twitch in a cruel smirk. "Oh really?" He inquired, in manner Spike considered most patronizing. "And do you know how many sodding people I hear that from every day? Every wanker wants a piece of Billy Idol-everybody wants something!" He spat angrily, flinging the wine bottle down. It broke at Spike's feet, sending a crimson spray splattering all over his jeans and trench coat. 

"You love me, eh?" The embittered man questioned coarsely, giving his fan a filthy look. "Well, join the bloody fan club then! You want to dress just like me, be my little dark prince? Sod off! All you want is to get inside," he mockingly emphasized the last word, nearly reducing Spike to tears.

"Now get the 'ell outta my dressing room!"

*~*~*

The Present

The Summers' residence, 2003

"You're certain you don't remember anything about this supposed 'trigger'?" Giles asked again testily, "You might make this process easier on yourself by cooperating."

Spike shot him a glare. "Like I said, _gramps,_ I don't bloody well know anything. All right? We done here?" He pulled impatiently at his chains, a distraction he enjoyed much more when he and Buffy were using it for bondage fun.

Buffy rushed to sit beside him, rubbing the vampire's ears sympathetically. "Yeah Giles, he can't remember anything. So we're pretty much done here." She patted Spike's knee lovingly, "You okay, pookie?"

Giles sighed wearily and plucked off his glasses to rub his eyes. "Willow, fetch the creepy goo." 

"Creepy goo?" Spike blurted in disbelief; "you're kidding, right?"

"'Fraid not," Robin Wood interjected in a 'nyah, nyah' sort of way, looking awfully smug for someone with such a nancy-boy name. "Who knows Spike, maybe you might actually enjoy it." He and the vampire traded looks of mutual loathing.

Willow began to chant her mumbo jumbo as Giles pounded a wriggling playdough like substance into Spike's ears. It really tickled. He began to jerk wildly, snarling, violently struggling against his restraints.

"Hey, look at Spike!" Dawn bounced forward, her observation rewarded by a flying cot to the face.

"Nice shot!" Anya cheered him on, amused as usual, by the blood sport. "Throw something else!"

"Omigod!" Buffy wailed, grief-stricken over her ex-lover's current state. "Someone help him! And get Dawn out of my way!" She nudged her sister's unconscious form with her foot, moving her aside. "Spikey, are you okay? It's _me_, Buff-y."

Her friends watched with mixed looks of puzzlement and disgust as she rocked the vampire back and forth in her arms. "Poor Spike. Poor, poor baby. Let me just get you upstairs and into a warm bath." She moved to free him from his bonds, whispering soothing comforts and making kissy noises.

Wood muttered something under his breath as the slayer led the sullen vampire past him. Spike made extra sure to stick out his tongue on the way by.

"But Buffy," Giles protested with building frustration, "we're not finished here."

"Oh yes we are," she dismissed him haughtily. "Now shut it, you're already on my list."

The remaining Scoobies exchanged wary glances, and Kennedy grudgingly handed Anya five dollars. 

"I knew this wouldn't work," Anya explained matter-a-factly off of their pointed looks. "What? I recognize profit when I see it."

Giles turned to follow them up the stairs, still troubled over Buffy's obsessive attachment to Spike. It was bordering on ridiculous the way she doted on _him_, a vicious and calculating killer. He made a note not to write her any more generous checks as they clearly lent a hand to Buffy's love trysts, evident by the conspicuous addition of chains to the basement. So vexed by his continually deteriorating relationship with his slayer, he hardly noticed Wood's lingering presence beside him. 

"Hey, little boy," Wood coaxed suddenly in a low tone, "would you like some candy?" He paused, catching himself. "Er…I mean, Mr. Giles, I have a proposition for you."

"C-candy?" The Englishman perked up at this clever bribery, "How do you mean?"

The principal indicated that he come closer, adopting a mysterious tone. "Sure, I'll give you some if you do something for me."

"Such as?" Giles demanded, cautious all at once.

Wood plastered on an innocent expression. "Just take Buffy out to train and keep her there for as long as you can. I'm going to kill Spike because he is an evil creature of darkness and we both obviously hate him."

Giles frowned, his forehead crinkling with indecision. "That would be utterly deceptive of me. I could never betray Buffy's trust like that."

"What if I told you I was raised by a watcher much like yourself because my mother was murdered by the aforementioned fiend?" Wood continued self-righteously, pressing a candy bar into the other's hand. He had plenty of leftovers from this year's band fundraiser. "Besides, I know we both agree that Buffy doesn't need him around."

Giles stared down at the tasty treat, realization dawning suddenly. "Good Lord, you're Nikki Wood's son, even though I, as the most knowledgeable source on this show, should have figured that out by now!" He eagerly pocketed the chocolately goodness. "And as I've known you for nearly four episodes now, I can clearly ignore all of my other instincts and trust you implicitly."

"That's a good boy," Wood smiled with satisfaction, slipping back into the shadows to plot.

*~*~*

"So, why'd we come here again?" Spike eyed his surroundings with equal parts interest and suspicion. Wood sure was a right creepy bloke. He had transformed his small garage into a study of sorts, complete with brimming bookshelves, a desk, and computer.

The sulky principal headed determinedly towards his desk, fishing through one of the drawers. "For weapons…and, um candy," he supplied a brief answer and continued digging.

"Right." Spike acknowledged shortly, his discomfort rising. The other man maintained such a brooding intensity (not unlike that sop Angel, Spike noted grimly), and kept gazing shiftily over his shoulder at him. _Hope he's not a poof,_ the brazen vampire reflected with an impatient sigh, _'cos I don't think I'm his nancy type._

"Remember, I like the kind with the little crunchy bits in 'em," Spike reminded him pointedly, reluctantly entering the dimly lit room. It was then that he was assaulted by the presence of what was easily a hundred different crosses, each ornate in its own right, nailed with zealous fervor to all four walls. And even stranger, was the random addition of multiple _Teen Beat_ N*SYNC posters to the medley. Spike blanched in shock.

"Bloody hell…" he gasped, gaze flickering madly over the disturbing motif. "You like N*SYNC? I knew you were a great poofter!"

Wood glared at him from over the top of his steely brown orbs. "My um…niece is a big fan. It's for her…"

"Riiiiiiight," Spike sniffed smugly, arms folded over his chest in a purely mocking stance. He seemed to take notice of the crosses once more, his grin fading a bit. "What's with the religious paraphernalia?" He questioned doubtfully, "Tryin' to keep out the bogeyman or somethin'?"

"I'm Catholic."

"Explains a lot," the vampire muttered derisively in a low tone. "Look, we gonna be here long? We should meet back up with the others; check in with Buffy." 

The one-time slayer's son located his iron knuckles and pulled them on, relishing the sweet taste of revenge. Or maybe it was the macaroni and cheese he'd had for lunch… He completed the ensemble by donning several heavy, Mr. T esque golden chains. Turning slowly, he faced Spike with a piercing stare.

"I'm not ready to leave just yet," Wood reached for the computer's mouse, clicking it swiftly. "Got something I think you should hear first." The machine whirred to life, an mp3 file springing into view.

_"I'm not a giiiiirl…not yet a woman,"_ Brittany Spears' digitally enhanced tinny voice poured seamlessly from the laptop's speakers.

Spike nearly snorted in his laughter. "God, sodding Brittany Spears too?"

Wood scowled fiercely and within seconds the song had ceased, instantaneously replaced by another, more…familiar tune.

_"Tell me your troubles and doubts. Giving me everything inside and out, out. Love's strange, so real in the dark. Think of the tender things that we were working on. Slow change may pull us apart. I'll get us back together at heart, baby…"_

Spike staggered backwards, glassy-eyed with surprise as a sea of unbidden memories flooded through him.

"Don't You Forget About Me. Don't Don't Don't Don't…Don't You Forget About Me."

The embittered man seemed to drink it all in with satisfaction as he drew closer, approaching the vampire with the predator ease of jungle cat. "Sound familiar?" He drawled, jeering. "Bring back memories of good times?" 

"_Oh Billy_…" Spike whimpered, his unfocused gaze flickering blindly about him. "Why didn't you want me?"

Wood's dark eyes glittered with undiluted hatred as he bent to retrieve the paper sack at his feet. From its contents, he removed a box of _Feria_ hair dye, color #461 Mahogany Sunrise. "I've been wanting to do this for a very long time."

*~*~*

"Do you know why we're here tonight, Buffy?" Giles inquired of his slayer sternly, hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed her patrol.

She shot him a sideways glance. "Besides the whole killing vampires part?"

He cleared his throat, returning her sarcasm with his patented Giles stare of disapproval. "Do try to be serious, Buffy. Our situation is grave."

Buffy heaved an exaggerated sigh. _Big time with the 'duh' there, Giles._ "Fine. Please launch into your crabby dissection of my slayer skills."

The Englishman squared his shoulders, frowning. "We have little time for this immaturity. Your sexual appetites aside, I find your recent patterns of leadership most disturbing…"

"Sexual appetites?" She roared in disbelief, "Hypocrite much, Giles? You're the one who's macking on the potentials." His slayer smirked openly at him, hands on hips.

Giles' opened his mouth and then closed it, flummoxed. "There was no 'macking,' to speak of," he retorted, rather snippily. "And if you're referring to this 'Mary Sue'…" his gaze dropped away as he regarded his feet with embarrassment. "Well, it's as you said. She never seemed to have existed in the first place." 

His head snapped back up and he met her gaze with a critical eye. "However, my interlude with her never placed anyone in jeopardy, which is more than I can say for you and Spike."

"Please," Buffy snorted unattractively. "Spike and I aren't having sex. He just _wishes_ we were."

"That may be, but your obsessive attention to him continues to distract you from your mission. Moreover, so long as his trigger is still active, you are placing us _all_ at risk."

The petite blonde eyed her elder with blatant animosity, wondering if he were merely jealous of the vampire's bitch status. "Whatever. You all just wish you looked as good in leather pants as he does."

Giles face openly reflected his wounded pride. "Why, that simply isn't fair. You've never even seen me in leather pants!" [Author's note: *swoon*]

Buffy paused to consider this, struggling to grasp the complex and puzzling concept that included her watcher and leather. After a long, uninterrupted appraisal of his tall frame (one that made Giles considerably uncomfortable), she shrugged indifferently.

"True," she pursed her lips in a perfect 'pity me' pout; her eyes going wide with unshed tears. "But I'm still mad at you! You left me and I've totally got abandonment issues, which justifies my permanent case of stupidity." 

The vampires that had presently been sneaking up behind them had to agree. With the permanent stupidity part, anyway. Buffy thanked them for the validation, and then dispatched them with ease.

She observed her watcher coldly. "I think we're done here. I'm going home to see what Spike's doing."

Giles grimaced, prepared to resort to flat-out deception if necessary. _Oh wait,_ that's what he was already doing! "Indeed…er, Buffy, look over there!" And Buffy did look, for a very long time. In fact, she flat out stared, allowing Giles the time he needed to mentally review his 'Surely, you understand this was for your own good' speech.

"I don't get it," the Slayer complained in a whiny tone. "What am I looking at? I mean, it's almost as if you were taking a ridiculously long time to teach me something. Long enough to keep me away from home and from…" Her eyes went wide with understanding, her mouth adopting a perfect 'oh' expression. 

Giles shuffled uneasily; the gig was up. "Y-yes, well, imagine that."

"You're _stalling_ me!" Buffy shouted an accusation, braining him with her stake. "What have you done to my poor muffin?!"

"_Muffin_?" Her watcher scowled at the strange term of endearment, and more specifically that it was aimed at Spike. "Buffy, surely you understand that there is a great deal at stake here. This is a war, and you are its _General_. There will be casualties and you're going to have to learn to pick and choose your batt-" His last, carefully rehearsed sentence was cut off as Buffy rendered him unconscious.

*~*~*

As the song's chorus rang in his ears, Spike felt himself losing control, his primal self rapidly taking over. He slipped into game face, a ferocious snarl loosing itself from his curled lips.

"Good," Wood nodded with a grim smile. "I was hoping you'd put up a fight." He advanced threateningly, and caught Spike under the chin with a fierce jab. "What's the matter, you don't like Billy Idol? I thought you were that kind of rebel, Spike." Another merciless punch.

Spike reeled from the impact, and then launched himself at his attacker. The other aimed a sharp kick at his middle. 

"C'mon Spike, I thought there was more to you than that. Aren't you tough? Aren't you just like your _hero_, Billy?" Wood slapped him silly and then mussed his fried blonde hair. "You weren't good enough, were you? You still aren't."

The vampire grunted in pain as another assault sent him doubling over. "_Billy_…"

"That's right," Wood continued with a self-righteous air, "he didn't want you. None of us do. Do you know why? Because you're a cheap knock-off, Spike-a murdering fiend. You killed my mother and when I'm done with you, I'll make sure you never look like your beloved Billy again."

His demoralizing words had just the opposite effect he was hoping for. Spike grabbed him about the neck and held him up in the air, his game face vanishing. "I'm my own man now," he hissed, his grip tightening. Wood sputtered for air. "Not Billy's bitch anymore. Not anyone's." He flung the principal across the room, sending him crashing against the wall.

"Billy may have turned me down, mate, but at least had the balls to try. I'll bet your nancy-boy fan mail never even reached those Boy Band gits." He plucked the box of hair dye from the floor and pelted it at Wood's forehead. The principal bent his head in shame, sobbing. 

"Seeing as I killed your sorry mum an' all, I'll let you live. But if you so much as look at my hair the wrong way again…" Spike's eyes burned with murderous intent, "I'll kill you."

*~*~*

After finally regaining consciousness, Giles returned to a strangely quiet house. The potentials wisely avoided him and even Willow and Xander could scarce look him in the eye. Buffy had made her wishes known to all. With duct tape. The lines were crooked, but he could see clearly where Buffy had drawn her boundaries. As punishment for his interference with Spike, Giles was now only granted access to the kitchen and living room. All other rooms in the Summer's residence, including both bathrooms, were off limits by penalty of violent throttling. Thank heavens there was a gas station not far down the road…

His slayer had also apparently chosen to title him as 'He who shall not be named because He sucks.' The Englishman sighed, flopping down onto the Summer's aged sofa. _It could have been worse,_ he reminded himself soundly, feigning a positive attitude. _She's hated me plenty of times before. _Absentmindedly, he dug in his jacket pocket for a handkerchief to clean his glasses with, but found instead the candy bar Wood had used to bribe him with. 

Giles regarded it sadly. _Well, at least I still have this._ He tore at the wrapper and half-heartedly took a bite, attempting to relish the sweet harmony of peanuts and milk chocolate. Somehow it tasted…familiar. Chewing thoughtfully, he tried to place the memory. It was a bloody good candy bar. He wondered idly if Wood had any more…

To be continued…

*~*~*

More bashing on the way! "Dirty Girls" is next, and don't you think it'd be more fun if Ripper made an appearance? _Mmm_…band candy.


End file.
